


In The Dark

by HedonistInk



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Halloween, Haunted House, M/M, Marco is a scaredy cat, background Ymir, makeup artist Jean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 10:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4916416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HedonistInk/pseuds/HedonistInk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco wasn't sure how he'd been talked into this. He didn't like scary things. He didn't like haunted houses. He wasn't sure why he didn't turn right around and go home when he realized it would be even scarier than he first thought. But maybe, just maybe, you can still find someone to help you in the most absurd places. And maybe, just maybe, Marco liked the absurd.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, be gentle with me fandom. This is my first fanfic in over three years and the first I'm putting up on here. I was bitten by the JeanMarco bug a few weeks back and then the other day this idea just materialized. I knew I had to do this from Marco's view but oh WOW Marco is hard to write for me. Two sleepless nights went into this thing while I tried to make it sound halfway decent. Hopefully people like it!

"And you promise? You promise you guys won't leave me on my own?" Marco asked for easily the tenth time that evening as he was dragged closer and closer to the looming buildings in front of him by Sasha's unrelenting grip on his wrist. 

"Of course! It'll be fun! You'll see! These things are never even scary anyway!" Sasha laughed.

"Yeah, it's kid stuff, man! Don't worry!" Connie agreed before running ahead to get their tickets. 

"Heh... right... Of course... Kid stuff." Marco scratched idly at his nose as he tried to swallow his fear, picking up his pace a little so Sasha's grip wasn't quite as hard on his wrist. At least they would be sticking right with him. What was the worst that could happen with them there? These things were always entirely staged and scripted anyway. Marco tried to reassure himself as best as he could that he was being silly. He looked around the small amusement park, looking at the various attractions re-themed and re-decorated to be suited to Halloween and scariness. 

He looked off to the side, noting the last traces of red from sunset disappearing below the horizon and wishing he'd been able to convince his friends to go during the day like he wanted instead. His eyes caught a sign that said something about "after dark terror hours" by the haunted house building that started a solid hour before the current time and he stopped dead in his tracks. ".....Sasha....?" he asked uncertainly, gesturing at the sign. 

Sasha stuck her tongue out innocently with a grin that made Marco feel uneasy with how mischief seemed to ooze from it. "Oh _relax,_ Marco. We'll be right next to you! You'll be fine!" 

Marco frowned slightly, feeling more than a little betrayed. He looked up with dread at the haunted house as music oozed from the building, shadows moving in the illuminated but frosted windows. "You planned this. On purpose." 

"Well yeah," Connie laughed, brandishing the tickets and giving Marco what he was sure was meant to be a reassuring pat on the back. Somehow, it did nothing. "The daytime one is for _babies._ This is gonna be a lot more fun. Trust me!"

"I think you and I define "fun" a bit differently, Connie," Marco chuckled warily. "My version of "fun" doesn't involve monsters and creepy creatures. Connie only shrugged and grinned at him in return. He followed his friends anyway into the looming concrete building, pushing down his worries with an easy smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. It would be fun, he reminded himself. Nothing to be scared of. Totally fake and scripted. His friends would be right next to him. Right. 

As they walked through the doors and Connie handed over their tickets, Marco found his palms sweating profusely. He fisted them at his sides, refusing to let his fears get the best of him and sped up a bit to stay closer to Connie and Sasha. Fog machines hissed menacingly, filling the air with a cool and stifling smoke that carried the strobing light through the air until you could barely see ten feet ahead of you in any direction. The music swirled quietly in the background, fading in and out with howls and shrieks and the occasional blood-curdling scream. It took maybe forty feet before a werewolf snarled its way out of a bush next to Marco. Connie and Sasha jumped a bit but laughed while Marco nearly leapt out of his own skin with an undignified shriek, grabbing the nearest thing he could, which happened to be Connie's arm. 

Connie laughed more at his friend's misfortune as he continued walking, shrugging out of his grip. "Relax dude, it's just a costume." 

"R-right. Y-yeah. I know..." Marco forced a chuckle, wiping his palms off on his jeans. He reminded himself again of how ridiculous he was being. But it did nothing to calm his nerves as he made a mental note to never do this again. 

Animatronics popped from the walls and ceilings here and there as they progressed through the building. They were covered in all manners of goo and cobwebs and blood and, far too often, accompanied by a shrill scream or loud hiss. Much to his chagrin, the next scare always seemed to be right around the corner after Marco had calmed himself down from the previous scare. It kept his nerves twitching and his heart racing. He clung to Sasha or Connie occasionally after a particularly bad scare, but found himself increasingly curling inward instead as they laughed him off, crossing his arms and hugging himself tightly, shrinking as small as his 5'10" build would allow. A shaky sigh escaped him, wondering how far through the maze they were by now. 

"H-hey Sash...? How big is this pl—Aah!" He cut himself off with a scream as he felt a breathy hiss against his skin, spinning around to see a grim vampire with a Victorian pony tail and a wicked grin, blood dripping from their fangs and running messily across their chin. He clutched at his chest and tried to remember to breathe, turning back around just in time to see Sasha grab Connie's hand and drag him on ahead with excited gestures to look closer at what looked like a particularly detailed disemboweled corpse, guts spilling across the stone dais it was laid out on. 

Marco blanched, hugging himself tighter and feeling more than a little queasy, heart still hammering in his ears. He found himself unconsciously hanging back from the dais slightly, not wanting to get too close. Every small creak and howl made his ears perk and his eyes dart around wildly like a frightened dear, the background sounds themselves becoming almost as terrifying as the things that lurked in the dark. Tremors shot down his spine regularly enough that his fingers and toes started to feel numb with fear. His body felt stiff and foreign yet somehow he also felt aware of every inch of his skin. His fitted t-shirt clung to him slightly with the traces of a cold sweat that wouldn't dissipate with all the fog in the air. 

He wondered idly how Connie and Sasha could actually be enjoying themselves in an environment like this. As he found himself thinking that, a gathering of excited and scared screams and laughs erupted behind him, the sound of a bunch of stumbling feet following shortly. A gaggle of girls, likely high-schoolers by the look of them, careened past him at a fast pace with more loud laughs and shrieks as he vaulted himself back against the closest wall with a surprised noise to avoid being crashed into. His hands met the wall by his sides before he flung himself away from it again almost instantly at the feel of tacky cobwebs under his touch. 

It was all fake, just pretend, he reminded himself for probably the hundredth time that evening. Marco held a hand against his chest, willing his racing heart to calm down as he tried to steady his breathing. Just fake cobwebs, that was all. He turned to catch up to Connie and Sasha before stopping dead in his tracks. They were nowhere to be found. He looked around in every direction, seeing nothing but dense fog, darkness, the disemboweled corpse on its platform, and the offending sticky cobwebs. 

"S-sasha? Connie?" he called out, edging tentatively forward. But there was no response other than the creaking and whistling wind sounds along with the glum and haunting music. He pulled his phone out quickly, going pale as he saw the little "no signal" indicator in the corner of his screen. The building was concrete, he remembered, cringing. 

Marco's heart started racing again as his gut plummeted and there was nothing he could do to calm himself this time. He was alone. Alone in the dark surrounded by monsters. His friends left him. They promised they would stay with him. But they left him behind. He was alone. 

Tears pricked at Marco's eyes despite his best efforts to hold them back. This was no time to break down, he scolded himself internally. It was all fake and he just had to get through this and then he would be back outside. He was perfectly safe. It was just dumb costumes and fake blood. That was all. He could do this. Marco tried desperately to reassure himself. He fisted his hands at his sides in an attempt to quell their shaking, trying to ignore how badly his heart hammered in his ears, nearly drowning out the music with the racing drumming that was the soundtrack of his own terror. 

"You can do this, Marco," he told himself aloud with a resolute nod. He forced himself to edge forward slowly and tentatively, keeping his hands locked into fists at his sides. Marco found himself hyperventilating slightly, tears that he refused to let fall still threatening the edges of his vision. One half-step at a time, he managed to move forward. His freckled face turned to glare at the disemboweled corpse as he passed it, unabashedly blaming it for being separated from his friends. 

He continued on, pausing to take calming breaths every so often once he was relatively sure he'd been terrified by everything in that particular area already. His grasp on his own fear was tenuous at best and he felt he might unravel any minute. Marco turned another corner at the end of the hallway, brushing through some cobwebs that dangled down, trying to stifle his disgusted groan as he kept himself quiet and tentative. He took a few more steps before realizing his steps seemed to be echoing more than they were before. 

No. Not echoing. There was a second set of footsteps behind him. There was something closing in behind him. Marco's heart jumped into his throat, threatening his very ability to breathe as he turned himself slowly. 

"Mmmrreerrrghhhhhh," came the low groan from the thing that had been following him in the low light as he turned to face it. The creature's mouth was shredded into a bloodied, decaying, and dripping maw. One of its eyes as well as that entire side of its face was ripped apart, chunks of shredded flesh around the edges and raw, rotten-looking meat underneath. Something about a face with one side so utterly obliterated struck terror to his core. It was so close, looming well within Marco's personal space. Its one remaining eye bored into Marco's. The yellow-flecked light brown eye would have been the only remaining human-looking thing about the creature were it not for the bloody tear trails running from it. 

That was all it took to break Marco finally, the last depleted traces of his rationality dissolving into nothingness in an instant. Marco screamed, hands flying up in front of him as he went stumbling backwards and tripping over his own feet. He went careening backwards, landing on his ass with a hard thud. Pain shot up through his spine with a sharp throb. He stared up at the zombie that now loomed over his position on the ground for only a fraction of a second, trying to scoot backwards but finding his arms too weak with fear to move him and promptly breaking down sobbing. This was it. This was the end. He was going to be ripped apart by some already-dead thing all alone. 

"D-don't kill me. Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods, oh gods. I don't wanna die here. Oh gods please." He sobbed the words out, clutching at his knees and shaking as he cried desperately, face staring up at the zombie but really seeing nothing, eyes glossed over in overwhelming fear. The zombie halted in its tracks for a second before Marco saw it edge closer. His breathing picked up to a panic as he shook his head wildly. "Please please don't kill me. Oh gods please don't kill me," he breathed between panicked, hyperventilating tears. Distantly, he found himself realizing the sounds coming from the zombie's mouth didn't seem very undead but they barely registered. 

"Hey, hey buddy relax..." The zombie chuckled awkwardly, scratching at the back of its—his, Marco also realized distantly—neck. "Just... fuck. Please just stop crying alright? It's okay." Reaching up to the shredded side of his face, the zombie tugged hard. Marco was entirely prepared to panic more, and possibly faint, at watching him rip his own face off farther but realized through the broken traces of his rationality that the zombie was tugging off some sort of prosthetic and was, in fact, a completely normal human underneath all the decay and latex and makeup. "See? It's all okay. It's just a fucking costume, buddy." 

Marco continued staring numbly as his mind struggled to start processing information again, his sobs eventually quelling into little hiccups. He gave a small and tentative nod, wiping his eyes off on the back of his wrist. An embarrassed blush rose on his cheeks as he realized the zombie was still staring at him with an almost nervous look. Marco imagined it must be pretty awkward to watch a grown adult break down crying over a stupid costume. It was awkward to be the adult breaking down too though, he realized. "I... I'm sorry... I got separated from my friends. And there's... there's no signal. And I didn't wanna come here anyway. And I'm so embarrassed right now. I probably look so pathetic. Sobbing like a total dork." He buried his face in his hands to stop himself from rambling. 

The zombie gave an awkward chuckle. "Don't worry about it, buddy. Hey uh... listen... You're only halfway through this thing. You gonna be okay?" 

"Wh-what?" Marco's head snapped up to stare at him, wide-eyed and horrified at that piece of information. Halfway!? How could he only be half way!? Surely he'd been wandering through this place for at least half an hour on his own? Either his sense of time was _severely_ distorted in the presence of paralyzing fear or he'd been moving slower than he thought. Or both. Both was also entirely possible. And probably likely.

The zombie guy's eyes softened with what seemed like a slightly pitying look that Marco thought almost seemed like it could be gentle if not for the horrific makeup on the rest of his face. "Look, I'm not supposed to do this but uh... we have a landline phone in the employee area. If your friends are already outside, you'll be able to get through to them. ...And if you don't rat on me, I can let you out the back way so you don't have to finish the course." He offered out a hand to help Marco up. "How's that sound?" 

Marco shakily took the offered hand as he stood trying to avoid his face contorting into a disgusted expression at the feel of fake blood squelching against his palm. "I wouldn't want to get you in trouble..." he muttered, barely loud enough to be heard, scratching at the side of his nose idly. 

The zombie shrugged. "It'll be fine. Besides, you look like you're about to have a heart attack. So really I'm saving the people who run this thing a fucking lawsuit from your parents if you dropped dead of fright," he laughed. 

Marco frowned at that. "Gee... Thanks... Uh I'm Marco, by the way." 

The zombie grinned and Marco almost laughed to himself at the absurdity of the situation and how absurd the slashed mouth looked with his grin popping out underneath. "I'm Jean. Nice to meet you, Marco. Now come on quick and I'll even toss in some hot cider to help calm your nerves. It's just powdered but it's decent." Jean turned, gesturing over his shoulder. 

Before he had time to think about what he was doing, Marco found his hand shooting out to grab Jean's again, a blush bright on his face as he battled his embarrassment at doing something so childish. Well that was mature. Totally making a fool of himself tonight, he was. Jean turned back to him with a surprised expression, opening his mouth to speak but Marco interrupted before he could with a sheepish smile. "I uh... just don't wanna get lost again. Y'know?" What he didn't say out loud was that Jean's hand was warm and reassuring in his palm. A good reminder of the humanity of the situation. An anchor to the idea that it was all fake, holding him steady against the churning waves of fear. 

Jean rolled his eyes at that, giving Marco's hand a squeeze that made him blush more, a slight flutter of something aside from his nerves rustling in his stomach. For a gruesome zombie, Jean seemed pretty nice actually. A bit awkward, maybe. But after breaking down sobbing at a Halloween attraction, Marco didn't feel he was qualified to judge anyone for being awkward anymore. Plus his voice was really nice to listen to, which Marco freely admitted he was a sucker for. "Alright, you big baby. Come on." He gave a small tug, leading Marco down the dark corridor with a practiced ease. 

A short walk later, Jean was pushing aside some of the cobwebs, revealing an electronic door lock. He punched in something that made a little red light flash as Jean cursed and grumbled. "Fucking hell. Uhm... Oh, right." Punching in the correct pin code this time, Jean turned the handle, tugging Marco in quickly to the brightly lit room before he had a chance to let go and shutting the door behind them. "So, is cider good for you?" 

"Uhm yeah thanks." Marco replied as he held a hand over his eyes, blinking furiously at the sudden harsh light. His lungs ached at the sudden change in the thickness of the air. He looked around as his eyes adjusted, noting that the room was narrow and long, maybe ten feet wide by twenty feet long. It was cramped but efficient. A few vending machines stood against the opposite wall from the door. A skinny table sat next to them with chairs crowded around three sides. A phone hung from the wall above the table while next to the table was a microwave and sink squeezed onto a very tiny strip of counter followed by a small fridge. Another room was off on one short side wall that seemed to be even more well lit and bright. He saw the edge of a dressing room bench and figured that must have been where the employees did their makeup and costumes. The other short wall held two similar doors, one with a bathroom symbol on it. To the left of him was a ratty-looking couch. He debated sitting down on it before instead deciding instead to hover closer to Jean. Marco was still feeling more than a little shaky on his feet. He didn't want to be alone. And aside from that, the couch was more than a little disgusting. 

His zombie saviour—Marco frowned internally when he realized what he had called him—gave him a small smirk, popping a cup of water into the microwave and digging out a packet of powdered cider from what had to be an industrial sized box of at least 60 packets. "So how the fuck did you wind up here if you're such a big baby?" Jean asked idly before visibly freezing at Marco's shocked face, scratching the back of his neck. "Shit, that sounded really dickish. Sorry. I didn't mean it like that. Shit. Uh I mean—" 

Marco shook his head, smiling slightly at Jean's embarrassment. His awkwardness was surprisingly reassuring. "No, it's okay. I am kind of a big baby about scary things. My friends Connie and Sasha. We were supposed to come during the day. And then they delayed us. And it wasn't until we were at the gates that I realized they did it on purpose because the daytime version was, to quote "for babies" apparently." Marco shrugged slightly. He saw Jean's brow furrow into a frown and added quickly, "They're kind of jerks sometimes, but they don't mean any harm by it. They're just pretty ridiculous and don't think about things before they do them. They're really nice though, usually." Marco wasn't entirely sure why he felt he had to be defending his choices of friends to this relative stranger. It just seemed like the right thing to do. Completely normal, he assured himself. 

"Ah. And you said you got separated?" Jean asked as the microwave beeped, turning his attention to pluck out the cup and placing it on top of the microwave, tearing open the packet and dumping in the contents before stirring it with a plastic spoon from out of another clearly warehouse-bought box. 

Marco was about to reply when a voice suddenly came from right behind him. "Hey, Horseface, you know you're not supposed to bring dates back here." 

Marco spun around with a shriek, having not heard anyone walk up behind him. Even in the bright lighting, he looked like something that did not belong on this planet. His eyes were entirely white except for two black pupils, eye sockets sunken and a void-looking purple-black. Blood was splattered around his face, starting from his lips, as if he had just ripped open the neck of some unsuspecting victim like a wild animal. His lips and gums were blackened and lifeless, reminding Marco of someone who had frozen to death. 

Marco's eyes took in the gruesome ghoul that had suddenly appeared behind him for mere fractions of a second before he was instinctively lashing out with a fist, adrenaline still clearly working in high gear. He froze, free-falling back to reality with an internal thud as soon as his fist contacted with the texture of gritty makeup and the warm pliability of skin. 

"Holy shit, what the fuck dude!?" the guy shouted, hand flying to cup his cheek and nose with a pained grunt. 

Marco's eyes went wide as he realized what he had done, hands flying up to cup his own mouth in horror. He was such an idiot. He just punched some poor guy in a costume! There was no excuse for something like that. He should have more control of himself than that. Marco found himself berating himself internally. "Ohmygod. Ohgods. I'm so sorry. Ohmygod. Oh. Oh no. I'm so sorry. So sorry. Are you okay? I didn't mean to. Oh gods." He spluttered helplessly, mortified blush bright against his freckled cheeks. What if this guy was seriously hurt? "I'm so sorry. I'm—" 

He was cut off by the sound of Jean laughing hysterically beside him and turned to stare at him, dumbstruck. He was... laughing? "Damn, Jaeger. He got you good!" Jean clutched at his sides with laughter, turning to Marco as he tried to collect himself. "You punch really solid when you're scared shitless, Freckles. I should be glad you didn't do that to me." Jean smirked broadly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. 

Marco couldn't help but stare at him like he was crazy, a frown furrowing his brows slightly. Who laughs at seeing someone get punched? Still, he couldn't help thinking that Jean probably looked really good with that smirk under all the makeup. The way his eyes twinkled was something that could leave him breathless. The thought made him blush and he chased it out of his mind as best as he could. 

"Fuck you too, Horseface," the ghoul grunted, drawing Marco's attention back to him as he pressed tenderly at his nose. Marco's guilt flooded back. 

"I'm so sorry, again. I'm really sorry. Are you okay? I really hope I didn't hurt you. I... I sort of lost it out there and actually I lost it completely to be honest and Jean here offered to let me use the phone to call my friends and he let me come back here and I guess my nerves are just a little shot still and I'm really sorry and I really hope you're okay." Marco knew he was rambling but he couldn't stop himself, fidgeting anxiously as he wrung his hands together. 

Jean snorted, giving Marco a slight sympathetic smile and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about Jaeger, Marco. He's been through worse, I promise. Little kids punch at dick height, you know. He just likes to bitch like a little baby." Marco cringed at the thought of what the employees must go through. Jean turned his attention back to the ghoul, the snark now thick in his voice. "Get to work Jaeger, you know you're fine. Don't you have other people to traumatize?" 

Jaeger, as Jean had called him, grumbled something under his breath before hunching his shoulders, stomping across the room, and out the door. Jean turned back to the cup, stirring the last clumps of cider powder in before handing it to Marco carefully. Marco felt that little flutter again when their fingers brushed and bit his lip, looking away. He would be the one to get a crush on a zombie. It just figured. He was really hopeless, he knew. 

"Oh gods..." Marco laughed breathlessly, to cover up the reason behind his blush as he took a sip of the drink, letting the hot liquid calm his nerves a bit as it soaked into his bones. The situation was finally sinking in with something other than sheer mortification and he had to admit it was probably just a little bit funny at least. In retrospect, it would be funny. Not that it was exactly the kind of story he wanted to be repeating. It was still too embarrassing. "I can't believe I just punched that guy. You're sure he's okay, right?" 

Jean nodded with a vague gesture of his hand, flopping himself into one of the chairs around the table. "Yeah, he's fine. Relax, Freckles. He probably deserved it for something he's done recently or will do soon anyway. Jaeger's a dick. Besides, like I said, little kids are an... unfortunate height. Not fucking fun at all. That was back before they started recommending that the guys all wear a cup too. " 

Marco sucked in a breath, wincing. "Ouch. Just... ouch. You guys are brave." He took another sip of his cider, tentatively perching himself on the edge of another seat. "This is actually pretty good, thanks Jean. It's... definitely helping." He smiled warmly. His smile grew wider still when the other scratched at his neck, obviously a nervous gesture, and barely heard him as he mumbled something akin to a "you're welcome", avoiding looking Marco in the eye. Marco was glad he wasn't the only one nervous. The situation really was pretty absurd, after all. He let his mind wander for a minute, letting the cider warm him up a bit more. "So you and that guy really don't get along, do you?" He paused when he saw the surprise on Jean's face, blushing again. Wow he was really being a dork today. He didn't even know this guy and he was asking about his social life. Totally not weird. Clearly. "I mean uhm, you don't have to tell me or anything. You don't even really know me, I'm just curious. Sorry." 

"Nah, it's cool," Jean shrugged, shifting himself in his chair and propping his face up on one hand, elbow resting on the table. "I just don't talk to new people very often and everyone I know already knows about that whole mess. So it's just... weird to be asked. It's not that I hate him like _hate_ hate. We just agree to mutually dislike each other's very guts because we can't get along without pissing each other off but I don't hate him. Pretty civil arrangement, actually. It's been that way since high school." Jean looked away, a small smirk peeking through his now well-smudged makeup.

Marco watched him curiously, sipping away at his cider before it got cold. "Ah. Okay then. I see." He wondered briefly if that was all Jean would tell him before the other moved to speak again, wiping his hand across his face. Marco suppressed a snort at how it smudged his makeup. Marco realized that maybe, just maybe, Jean was a little bit cute. Yup, he had a crush on a zombie. Just perfect. 

"I'm sure you've realized by now that I have no fucking filter. I think it and I say it. Well, surprise surprise, the right response to being accused _very loudly_ of staring at your friend's sister's ass is not, in fact, to reply _equally loudly_ that you were really staring at your friend's ass and not his fucking sister's." Jean snorted, smirk growing as his eyes barely caught Marco's. Marco's eyes widened slightly as he caught the faintest hint of Jean blushing under the makeup. Did that mean Jean was into guys? "Apparently loudly admitting to a homo crush on your friend in the middle of the high school cafeteria can cause some pretty big fucking dents in your friendship with him. Who knew, right?" The snark was clear in his tone.

"Oh..." Marco laughed slightly, scratching at his nose as he stared at his drink with a small blush. "I can uh... I can see how that might be a little awkward, yeah." 

"...Sorry if I made things awkward now," Jean muttered, looking away before laughing a bit too loudly. "Not every day you meet a bisexual zombie though, right? So that's something!" 

"I uhm n-no definitely not." Marco chuckled but realized quick enough that Jean must have felt Marco was judging him. Not that anything could be farther from the truth. Marco actually found himself trying a bit too hard to quiet those little flips in his gut again at Jean's impromptu coming out. He definitely had a crush on the zombie guy covered in fake blood. Well that was a first, certainly. It was probably just the fact Jean had gotten him out of his moment of terror. His brain apparently had some sort of thing for being a rescued damsel. Well, that was good to know about himself. He bit his lip before finding himself talking, not really thinking about what he said. "Th-then again it's probably not every day a bisexual zombie rescues a big gay crybaby from a haunted house. So it's probably a unique situation any way you look at it. Really cliche, frankly. Totally absurd." Marco blurted out the words in a non-stop stream before hunching his shoulders with a fierce blush, staring down at his cider as if it was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen. Well if that didn't make his crush obvious, he wasn't sure what would. Oops. 

"Oh. I... touche, Freckles, touche." Jean laughed awkwardly. The silence hung thick in the air for a few minutes before Marco found his head snapping up at Jean's next words. "You're much cuter when you're blushing than crying, you know. Blushing is a good look on you." Jean slapped a hand over his mouth before running a hand through his hair, looking at his hand with a disgusted expression when it came away covered in even more smears of color. Marco would have laughed at Jean's reaction to smearing his makeup, were he not still reeling from the comment. Jean called him cute? Him? Marco? "Shit, told you I had no filter. I shouldn't have said that. Fuck, that was totally inappropriate of me. You should probably call your friends or whatever. They're probably worried about you not having gotten outside by now if you fell as far back from them as you think." 

Marco stared wide-eyed at Jean for a few moments before nodding, swallowing thickly. The gears in his brain desperately tried to turn but the butterflies from his stomach seemed to have migrated to his brain, turning his thoughts into a fluttering fog. "I uhm yeah I should." He hesitated for a moment, not moving as he debated whether he should speak his mind. What could it hurt, right? The guy could always just turn him down and send him on his way, no harm done. But he called him cute after all, even after seeing Marco crying like a dork. He looked at his hands, forcing himself to breathe before speaking. "Uhm I'm... well I know you have to get back to work but honestly I'm a bit curious what my zombie rescuer looks like without the guts and gore." Marco dared to look up, a small daring smile starting to tug at his lips. "So, you know, if whole "sobbing in a haunted house" thing doesn't make me too permanently awkward for you and you wanna maybe grab coffee or something sometime, that would be... kind of nice." 

It was Jean's turn to stare now. Marco bit his lip nervously as he watched Jean's mouth wordlessly open and close a few times. His mind ran through all the ways Jean could reject him. He was just passing through the possibility of Jean dumping him back out in the creepy corridor to suffer the rest of the haunted house when Jean interrupted his train of thought. "Y-yeah! I mean... yes. Yeah, sure. That would be... I'd like that, yeah." 

Marco blinked for a moment, having entirely expected to be rejected, before smiling widely, the little tingles erupting in full force in his gut. He knew full well that there was no stopping them this time. And at least they were distracting him from the residual traces of fear left swirling around in his brain. He was almost thankful for the fear though. Without the adrenaline, he knew he never would have had the courage to ask. "Well alright then!" He pulled out his phone, opening up a new contact page. "Just uh put your number in and I'll text you when I have signal again?" 

Jean made to reach for the phone before looking at his colour-smeared hand and shaking his head. "I don't wanna get this crap all over your phone." He dictated his number instead with Marco acutely aware of how Jean was watching him as he punched it in. 

"Alright, I'll text you when I can then and we'll figure something out," Marco smiled before frowning at the time in the corner of his screen. "I should... probably actually call Connie though. And let you get back to work," he laughed sheepishly. "I'm sorry I took up so much of your time." 

Jean only shrugged in return, standing. "Don't worry about it, Freckles. This place needs me too much to fire me. Besides, I got a date out of it, didn't I? I'm not gonna complain." Jean winked and Marco's blush felt hot against his cheeks. Marco tried to not dwell on the absurdity of having asked out a zombie. But he really had though, hadn't he? Marco had actually managed to ask someone out and of all people it was a guy decked out in fake blood and decay. "I'm gonna go put my face back on, you call your friends and I'll walk you out the back way when I'm done." With that, Jean turned and wandered off into the room on the side. 

Marco pondered over the fact that Jean apparently did that gruesome makeup himself. It was really good. Jean had to have had training for that or something. What sort of training did they even do for that stuff? Probably the same kind as for movies, he assumed. He gave himself a minute to collect himself, thinking over the situation. He would be the one to get a date at a haunted house of all things. With a zombie employee no less. Marco, the big baby about scary things, was going to have a date with someone who scared people for a living. The irony was truly special to him. An absurd little grin playing at his lips, Marco grabbed the phone off the wall and punched in Connie's number. 

"Yo. Who's this?" came the confused answer after the third ring. Marco couldn't help rolling his eyes at the bluntness of his friend. 

"Hey Connie, it's Marco. I just wanted to let you guys know I'm okay." 

"Marco!? Holy shit, what happened to you? We were just about to have them send someone in to find you. You were with us and then you were just _gone!_ Poof!"

"I uhm... it's a long story." Marco chuckled uneasily. "Short version is that a group of girls separated me from you guys and one of the people who works here took pity on me and let me use the staff phone because there's no cell signal in here and he's going to send me out through the employee exit so I don't have to finish the path by myself. I'll be out soon, he just has to fix up his makeup first though. I'll meet you guys by the car in a bit, okay? I'm not sure where that exit will let me out, so it's probably easier?" 

"Uh yeah, sure thing, man." Connie replied uncertainly. "I'm just glad you're alright, man." Marco overheard Sasha yammering nonstop in the background but couldn't quite make out what she said. "Yeah, he's okay. He's gonna meet us at the car. Alright, alright. Yeah, sure we can," Connie muttered to her before speaking to Marco again. "Okay, now that we know you're not like lost or dead or something, Sash and I will grab some food and we'll meet you at the car in a bit." 

"Sounds good!" Marco chimed with a smile. "You guys enjoy your food. That is, if Sasha lets you have any of it," he laughed as Connie muttered his agreement. "See you soon. Sorry for worrying you." After Connie spoke his reply, Marco hung up the phone, putting it back onto the receiver on the wall. He couldn't remember the last time he had used an actual landline phone, his cell always in his pocket. 

Marco sighed slightly. He downed the last—and unfortunately rather cold—sip of his cider before standing from the table and stretching with a groan. He looked around the room idly. It wasn't that he was bored exactly, he was just idle. He knew his curiosity would get the better of him and he would start snooping if he let himself stay that way. Trying to keep himself from poking around at things he shouldn't, he wandered over to the dressing room, knocking on the open door lightly so that he wouldn't startle Jean before entering the room. "Hey, I finished my call. I'm gonna meet them back at their car whenever I get outside." 

"Hey, Marco, I'm back here. You can come on back if you want," Jean called from the other side of the row of dressing room tables. 

Marco hesitated slightly, teetering on the balls of his feet. He wasn't sure if he wanted to watch Jean go full zombie again. But he also figured it might help his uneasiness if he actually saw it happen, knowing Jean was underneath the makeup and seemed pretty harmless. That made sense, right? It seemed like it probably did. Making up his mind, he tipped himself forward, rounding the corner to the other side of the tables. 

Marco wasn't sure what he was expecting to see, but Jean sitting there with half of his face covered in what looked like white goop-covered cotton while dabbing dark red goop around the shreds by his lips was definitely was not it. "So uh... you guys all do your own makeup or what?" he asked awkwardly, perching himself on the edge of the next makeup bench. 

Jean flicked his eyes over to Marco for a moment before shaking his head. His words were slightly muffled as he clearly tried to not move his mouth too much. "No, I do the face makeups for half the staff. Ymir, does the other half. She's a vampire tonight, you probably ran into her." 

Marco frowned. "...The creepy vampire who breathed down my neck and made me lose my friends?" 

"....Oops?" Jean offered rather pitifully with a small shrug. "Sounds like her though." 

A small huff escaped Marco's lips as he tried to dive back to the conversation. There were still many questions he could think of. "You do all that in one night?" Jean shrugged and nodded in reply, starting to cover the white stuff with bloody-looking gloop. "Wow, you're really good then." 

Jean snorted at that. "I'm really not. There's some people out there who can do really cool shit. I just learn quick and experiment a lot." 

"No I mean it." Marco shook his head, refusing to allow his words to be dismissed. He wondered if Jean really didn't realize how good at this he was or if he was just downplaying himself. "There was like six people before you and you said you were the halfway point. So that means there's probably twelve people wandering around out there. So you're doing six of these in a night. And if they're all as creepy and unnerving as yours and the one on that guy I punched? Then you're really good at this. No doubt about it." 

Jean paused where he was dabbing fake blood around his covered-over eye for a few moments. "...Thanks, Freckles," his tone was warm and maybe even a bit flustered? He resumed his work, stretching and pulling more bloody cotton around his cheek to make something vaguely muscle-looking. 

Marco watched him closely, feeling both horrified and fascinated. His stomach churned at all of the fake gore but it was also quelled somewhat by seeing it coming out of the various bottles and tubes and jars, affirming how fake it was. He made some small conversation here and there to distract himself from thinking too hard on how realistic it looked and remind himself it was all pretend. He found himself asking questions about this product or that product that Jean was using, but not really paying much attention to the answers. He was too fascinated by the overall process and how naturally Jean seemed to be able to just put down the colors and textures to transform his look. 

After about ten minutes, Jean put down his last brush and closed up his supplies with an almost reverent carefulness, standing up abruptly and turning to face Marco again, looming over him where he still sat. "So... how do I look? You look very... _tasty_..." Jean's voice purred the words eerily and Marco blanched in reply, shaking his head quickly and looking away. Something about the sight of a face half-obliterated like that just freaked him out to the core. It didn't matter how fake it was. It still freaked him out. "I'll take that as a compliment," Jean snickered, already heading for the door. "Now come on, let's get you back to your friends so I can get back to work. People to scare, you know."

Marco shuddered slightly, standing and following Jean quickly. The makeup was more than unnerving. He wasn't as embarrassed at his reaction earlier now that he had gotten a good look at it. Between the fleshy bits hanging off of Jean's lips like his mouth had been ripped open and the entirely missing and decayed eye as well as parts of his forehead and cheek, it was... disturbing to say the least. And that was in good lighting. 

Marco tilted his head curiously as Jean led him through the first room and to the unlabeled door on the other short wall. Through the door there was a narrow staircase leading up and to a hallway that turned to go back behind them, seemingly above the room they had been in before. Marco followed Jean down the hallway, looking around curiously. It was surprisingly well lit and tidy. A few doors lined the one side of the hall. There were Halloween decorations scattered around but they seemed more the type to have been bought at a department store than the type designed to scare anyone. 

"The offices for the park are up here. It's the "attic" for the mansion," Jean explained quietly with gesture to the side and a glance back over his shoulder. Marco stumbled slightly when he saw Jean's face, averting his eyes quickly. Before he even realized it, the hallway ended and they were at another narrow staircase that led down, this one with an elevator next to it. Marco followed Jean down the stairs to another small room with another two vending machines before Jean gestured to a worn-looking metal door. "So you just have to take a left out there and then walk down the path, go through the gate, and you'll be back at the front of the building. Simple." 

Marco nodded, taking a step towards the door before hesitating, looking back at Jean. He scratched idly at the side of his nose. "I... thank you, Jean." He smiled honestly, trying to not be put off by the gruesome makeup. "I really appreciate this." 

Jean chuckled at him in return. Though Marco couldn't tell his expression, his voice sounded almost... warm. "Don't worry about it, Freckles." 

Marco hid his blush as he turned to push open the door but something made him pause. He felt he should say something. But he wasn't sure if that was appropriate? Was he just making a much bigger deal out of this than he should be? Sure they had both agreed on a date in the future, but it had still only been under an hour that they had known each other. He was just on the edge of deciding to push open the door to go when his skin bristled at the closeness of someone, Jean, behind him. 

Breath ghosted hot and warm across his neck and Marco shuddered, though this time it wasn't with fear as it had been earlier that night. "And make sure you don't forget to text me, Marco," Jean's voice purred low in his ear and _gods_ if it didn't shoot right through him. 

He nodded, quickly and repeatedly in a way that was entirely embarrassing and too eager. His mouth felt dry around the words. "Y-yeah. I w-won't forget." He hoped Jean had somehow missed his very obvious stuttering over the words. It was almost definitely a vain hope. But still. 

Jean only offered another low chuckle that threatened to make Marco's knees buckle before pushing the door open for him. When had Jean put his hand on the door? He hadn't noticed his hand next to him. Marco wondered the question through a fog as he stumbled out into the cool night air. The cold air cleared his head and he turned back to face Jean, giving him a shy smile and a wave. "I'll see you soon, Jean," he managed in a tone that was almost coy before turning and heading quickly down the path he'd been told to follow. Marco was proud of himself for managing at least that much and ending their encounter on something other than his own awkward dorkyness. He paused as soon as he had closed the gate behind him and was back in front of the building. People mulled around, heading to or from the lines for the haunted house and Marco couldn't help a smirk at knowing what was waiting for them. It wasn't something he could handle, but he knew people who enjoyed being scared would get a good thrill out of Jean's skills. 

Before he could forget—not that he thought he could, really—Marco pulled out his phone. A few taps of the screen and he had pulled up a text to Jean. 

**To: Jean  
** **Told you I wouldn't forget. How's lunch tomorrow sound? :)**

Marco hit the send button before he could think better of it, glad to know Jean wouldn't get it until he was done with work. The small smile playing at his lips broke into a grin that refused to fade as he headed for Connie's truck. He knew very well that Sasha wouldn't leave him alone about it if he showed up grinning like a fool, but he couldn't help it. It was all too absurd.

Maybe, just maybe, Marco realized he was was beginning to like the absurd.


End file.
